Choices
by BubblyLit
Summary: Morgan has choices, obviously. Good or Evil? Vanilla or chocolate? Light or dark? Well, Ciaran's pushing it. Haunting her dreams, and waiting for a showdown. Hunter and Morgan desperately try to get it to stop while ciaran's got a trick of his own up his
1. The Dream

I heard my breath coming in short small pants, and gasps, as I bolted through the forest, my adrenaline rush spreading from my toes to my head. I could see the trees and bushes passing in a green and brown blur as my eyes darted towards any area of the woods where something terrible would end up happening. I halted and sobbed as I knew I had no idea where I was. I knew _why _I was here, of course. Something was after me. My senses prickled, and the hairs on my neck rose. The moon was full, and bright, illuminating the world.

Pretty much a world away from my own...

I sped up making my heart pound restlessly against my ribcage, my whole body shaking violently. My vision blurred and I could barely make out my pale bare feet.

With an impact so fierce, I was swept off my feet and pummeled into the ground, my face landing painfully against moist soil and twigs. I felt my face crumple with tears of excruciating pain and panted tiredly.

Without warning strong, somehow, threatening hands grabbed my shoulders violently. I cried out in pain. The man bent down low, and squeezed my shoulders tightly, so tight I felt as if they were broken. With a sickening crunch, he snapped my leg and I screamed, into the deathly quiet night. Screaming in such a quiet whispery place, seemed bad. Almost sinful. My head was throbbing. The man crouched so low his lips were beside my ear.

"We make our on choices," he whispered, ever so gently I felt like sleeping.

"We make our on choices, my daughter," he repeated, next to my ear.

The man let go of my shoulders forcefully and laid down on the ground next to me. I could feel his pulse, his aura, and his heart thumping against me. His breath was tickling the curve of my ear, and I wanted to cry. The night air was crisp and shallow, and the distant sounds of kids lighting of fire crackers was in the air, and I wondered why _I _was the one in this position, instead of the lucky teenaged delinquents, trying to wake up the delinquents.

I hated them. I really did. While I was the one here, taking one for the team, while they were choking back a stolen beer, and I was choking back on my own blood, and tears, that had been shed in vain, while they were keep track of who was easy, and what Chinese place was easiest to rob, I hated them. I hated them with an unholy passion. A passion so fierce that it was taking over my very being.

I hated them.

"But I will be the judge, to see if you make the right ones, my child," were his last words before he swept off into the night as quickly as he came.


	2. The Realization

I screamed and sat up, instantly waking up from my chaotic nightmare. My heart was beating wildly, and I was drenched in cold sweat. I gulped in air, which was almost immediately followed by an unbearable ache in my leg. I looked down and discovered a giant purple, and yellow bruise spreading across my shin. It stopped from my mid shin, and trailed up just below my knee. I moaned in stress, and kept looking at my leg in despair. My immediate thought was, Hunter. He'll definitely know what to do.

_Hunter, _I sent.

_Hunter, please, come, I'm terrified, _I pleaded.

I finished my message and silence filled my ears. Out of know where I heard that voice, that god-awful voice, filled my head. It echoed through my brain making hot tears slide down my face again. _We make our own choices, my daughter. _

My daughter?! My _daughter?_ I hadn't clued in yet to the fact that 'My daughter,' seemed to have a slight significance. A little, don't you think?

_On my way, love_, Hunter notified me, and relief swept over me again I almost burst into tears. I crept down the stairs, and the only sound to be heard was the distant whirring noise of the refrigerator, and my slipper-covered feet lightly padding down the stairs. I pulled out a from the dining room table, by the door and waited for my boyfriend to arrive.

10 minutes seemed to feel like an eternity. A long dreadful eternity. An eternity full of that terrible drive-you-insane voice circling my brain. I think I burst into terrified tears at least three times. And I thought my heart stopped when I heard Hunter tapping gently at the door. I flung open the white painted door and buried my face into his shoulder. Hunter wrapped his arms around me, and it was so comforting, my tears stopped almost immediately.

"Shh..." he whispered, brushing my hair away from my damp face. He sat me down on a dining room chair and took my hands in his.

"Morgan..." he whispered. "Tell me what happened," he said tucking my hair behind my ears. I told him everything, in a spill of an avalanche, everything came tumbling quietly out of my mouth. My mom and dad were above us and if my parents caught me with a boy they'd think it would be some form of witchcraft (as they were strongly against my participation of wicca), or that I was doing the clichéd 'devils dirty dance'. They used to say that when I was a preteen supposedly invoked to the world of sex, drugs, and violence. God, they're old.

Hunter's face twisted into concern, and sympathy.

I sniffled and noticed my nose was stuffed.

"I'm being stupid. It was probably just a nightmare of some sort... it couldn't possibly be as bad as what happened in New York, could it?" I asked running my hands through my tangled hair.

Hunter looked to be in deep thought and his sea green eyes were unfocused.

"Who knows...," he spoke in a deep voice. "Your father's a powerful one, he is,"

_My father... _I thought.

With a terrified interest I realized that powerful, drawling voice in my dream was my own father.

_Ciaran MacEwan. _


End file.
